


vampires will never hurt you

by theamazingpeterparker (orphan_account)



Series: Monster Mash! [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Halloween, Human Louis, M/M, Vampire Liam, Vampire Zayn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/theamazingpeterparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Liam pick Louis because his costume is ironic, and Louis remembers everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vampires will never hurt you

**Author's Note:**

> this is the last little fic for my halloween/monster series! thanks to [clare](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fervent) for cheerleading me through the rash decision to do any of these in the first place.  
> title's from 'vampires will never hurt you' by my chemical romance, because of course.

Zayn sees him first. Plastic fangs and a big black cape, he’s been stalking around the dancefloor grinning at potential hookups, mimes biting them on the neck before he’s dragged into the thick of the crowd. He’s obviously enjoying himself. Zayn’s counted six draculas prowling around and it’s funny to him that the only real vampire in the club is sitting next to him, dressed as a lumberjack.

“Him,” is all Zayn has to breathe, Liam turns immediately to follow Zayn’s line of sight.

“Why?” Liam asks, both of them watching as the young man grins and grinds between a girl dressed as a cheerleader and a zombie.

“Because he’s too cocky,” Zayn laughs, turns to Liam. “You want to get him or me?”

Liam considers it, replies, “me,” before sliding out of his seat and across the dancefloor, shoulders the zombie away and the man quickly loses interest in the cheerleader when Liam crowds into his space.

Zayn can hear Liam’s _I like your costume_ from the bar, his ears so fine-tuned to the conversation across the dancefloor that he almost doesn’t notice the person who sidles up to the bar behind him, leans in too close for Zayn’s liking.

“Nice ears,” and when Zayn turns in his chair there’s a girl, witches’ hat and suffocatingly tight corset standing expectantly in front of him. “You don’t see boys dressed as sexy animals too often.”

Zayn stares solemnly at her. She smells good, under the tequila and cigarettes on her breath. Smells like she’d taste almost too sweet. She reaches up, runs a hand along the furry ear’s Zayn’s got on his headband. “You’re a cat, then?”

Zayn shrugs in response. “My boyfriend picked it out for me. So. I’m whatever he had in mind.”

The girls’ face goes sour at that, scrunches up her nose. “Where is your boyfriend?”

Zayn nods towards Liam, who’s currently got his face bent into the boy’s neck. Looks back at the girl with a sweet smile and her expression is blank, just nods, disappears back towards her friends.

Liam’s already headed back, the man in tow behind him. “This is Louis,” Liam introduces him. He’s even prettier up close, sharp blue eyes and cheekbones to match, a tilting smirk as he offers Zayn his hand.

“Are you a vampire, Louis?” Zayn asks quietly, reaches over and runs a thumb along the collar of Louis’s cape. The shorter man shakes his head, takes out his fake fangs. “No. Are you really a cat?”

“Nope.”

“And would I be safe in assuming that Liam isn’t really a lumberjack? Alright, good. Glad we’ve got that out of the way.”

Liam and Zayn exchange a look, both can feel Louis’s heartrate pick up the slightest few beats. “Now, what can you lads offer me that’s any different than what anyone else has offered me tonight?”

“That depends. What _have_ you been offered tonight? Because none of it could have possibly been that enticing if you’re still here, I think.”

And that’s enough to shut Louis up, just gives Zayn narrow eyes and a smile, nods. “Alright. You got somewhere we can go?”

They take the tube back to Zayn and Liam’s flat and Louis is pressed close against Zayn’s back the whole trip, whispers warm and drunk against the back of his neck, _saw you at the bar when I first got there, almost gave up when I saw you kiss your Liam._

Zayn lets him talk, lets him lean close and back into it, watches Liam clasp a hand on the back of Louis’s neck when they’re close to their stop, swipes his thumb along the pulse at his throat.

*

Louis is quiet and pliant when they get off, three blocks to the flat and Zayn’s in front with Louis’s hands at the small of his back, thumb hooked through his back belt loops and Liam’s somewhere between them, pressed close to Zayn’s side but still ushering Louis up the steps to their building, guides them all into the elevator.

All the curtains are still drawn when Zayn opens the door to their flat, blankets still piled on the couch from where Liam had been sleeping until Zayn convinced him that they should go out, black eyeliner pencil still on the coffee table from when Liam had held Zayn down and penciled the cat-eyed liner on his lids. Liam’s leading Louis into the living room, presses close, _sorry for the mess_ while Zayn pulls off his cat ears, hurries to grab the shot glasses from the coffee table, O+ mixed with vodka starting to crust over at the bottom of the glasses from earlier that evening, Liam’s weird preference for pregaming before going out.

Zayn lets Liam break the news to Louis because Zayn never knows how, can’t exactly bring himself to say _so, we’re vampires, can we drink your blood_? But Liam has a knack for explaining it, reigning them in, and Zayn can hear him from the kitchen.  
“Not here for sex, sorry, mate. Can give you something just as good though.”  
And then a pause like there usually is, Louis’s voice, curious, “what d’you mean, Liam Payne?”

Zayn comes back in just as Liam’s untying the cape from around Louis’s neck and Louis’s rapid pulse is the only sound in the room. “We picked you for your costume, really,” Liam starts conversationally, drapes the cape over the back of the couch, careful not to damage it or wrinkle it. “There were five other Draculas there but Zayn wanted you.”

Louis’s eyes flick to Zayn and gives him a sharp smirk, looks like he’s about to say something else before Liam wraps a gentle hand around Louis’s throat, thumb pressed at the edge of his jaw. “Vampires, Louis. Why’d you dress as a vampire?”

“I think they’re cool,” Louis replies in a breath, there’s not as much strength behind his words now and Zayn edges closer, stands up against the back of the couch.

“What if I told you that we were vampires. Zayn and I?”

And this is the moment that decides it, if Louis will run screaming out of the apartment or if he’ll just accept it, Zayn lets out a breath he didn’t have to hold when Louis’s eyes widen a bit but he shrugs. “I’d say prove it.”

Liam meets Zayn’s gaze over the top of Louis’s head, his eyes already turning black around the soft brown edges. Zayn nods.

“Zayn always takes from the wrist,” Liam finally says, already moving so Louis walks backwards towards the couch, sits when the back of his legs bump up against the cushions. “I usually take from the neck...or if you wanted a specific spot.”

“You’re the expert, it seems,” Louis laughs, rolls up the sleeves of his black sweater. Zayn can’t tell if Louis thinks they’re bullshitting him or not. “It won’t kill me, right?” he asks off-handedly but his heart is pounding now, Zayn’s vision narrowing down to the bead of sweat running down the back of his neck.

“No, we’ve always been very safe. Zayn takes first and then me, we stop as soon as you pass out. Also, it’s better if your shirt is off. If you don’t mind.”

“Pass out,” Louis repeats somewhat hysterically but he’s already nodding with Liam’s words, tugs himself out of his sleeves and sweater. “You’re not going to leave me on the side of the road or something?”

“It’s not going to be anything worse than a one night stand and a hangover, Louis,” Zayn speaks up gently as he rounds the couch, sits on the cushion next to him. The young man seems to unwind hearing his name from Zayn’s mouth, sighs and leans back against the couch.

“Can’t say this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” he huffs a laugh, offers Zayn his right arm and then pauses. “Actually, I can say that.”

Zayn’s laughing softly when he raises Louis’s wrist to his lips, mouths at the pulse point there, feels his eyes go black and doesn’t look up after that, doesn’t want to freak Louis out any more than he already is. He presses his teeth to the veins, there, doesn’t bite just yet but Louis’s blood is pumping wildly already, jumping under the skin like it’s waiting to be released. And then Zayn bites, fangs sliding easily into the warm veins and Louis inhales sharply above him, hisses out a breath before he gives into it, goes pliant against the couch.

Zayn counts the slowing number of his heartbeats under his mouth, counts eight heartbeats before he pulls away, kisses the wound and then wraps a hand around Louis’s wrist until it closes. Counts to ten and nods over at Liam.

They’ve got it down to a science, never take more than a pint or two, make sure there’s no scars left over when they’re finished. Leave them in the guest room for the night, offer them breakfast in the morning and then let them go on their way. Every one of them never remembers anything, anyway, after that much blood loss.

Louis whimpers quietly when Liam leans into his neck and Zayn understands the feeling; can’t remember it, of course, it’s been three hundred years since he’s had a heartbeat but he assumes it’s the same kind of oversensitivity that comes after orgasming. Liam hesitates, moves away to look at Louis but the loss of contact makes the man whine louder, tilts his neck and invites Liam closer.

Louis passes out not long after that, goes limp under Liam’s mouth and Liam immediately breaks off, licks the red off his lips and looks steadily over at Zayn until his eyes aren’t blacked out anymore, turned back to their warm brown.

They carry him to the guest room after making sure he’s still breathing, put his wallet and phone on the nightstand and leave his sweater and cape across the bed on the dresser. Methodical. Precise, careful, friendly.

“He was good,” Liam says an hour later, has been bouncing around the flat since they put Louis in his room. Liam’s always energized after they take from someone, wants to go out and run a marathon.

Zayn’s always lethargic, afterwards. Wants to sleep. He has no idea how he and Liam have gotten along for as long as they have. (He does know, actually. It’s the way Liam’s always horny after a night out like this, pulls Zayn in for quick, rough kisses before he’s off on some rant or cleaning spree again, the way that they both know that Liam’s capable of holding Zayn down, overpower him, but he always, always listens to Zayn. Lets him be in charge.)

“He was,” Zayn agrees after a moment, cups a hand around the tip of his cigarette before lighting it. “Felt too easy, almost.”

Liam hums, puts away the last glass in the cabinet and plucks Zayn’s cigarette from his fingers, takes a drag. Zayn’s tired, content in watching the way Liam’s cheeks hollow around the cigarette, eyes half-lidded through the smoke. “You always pick ‘em good then, babe.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but grins over at him, takes the cigarette back but barely has time to take a drag before Liam’s lips are on his. Liam always feels warm to Zayn, like maybe there’s still something left in his chest after all these years. He knows it’s just a trick of his own mind, that Liam’s just as dead as he is, but it makes him feel better, feel like Liam’s just as alive--if not moreso--as he was when Zayn found him so many years ago.

Zayn can still taste Louis on Liam’s tongue, sour but in a good way, something sweet left at the back of Zayn’s teeth.

*

Zayn wakes up first when he hears the door to the guest room click open. It takes him a moment to register it, Liam still sleeping underneath him on the couch and Louis shuffling out into the hallway, freezes like a deer in headlights when he sees Zayn lift his head up oer the top of the couch.

“Holy shit,” is all Louis says. He’s still shirtless, hair hopelessly rumpled and he looks soft, doesn’t have the same sharp edges to him that he had last night on the dance floor.

“Yeah,” Zayn says back, carefully peels himself away from Liam’s torso and gets up, pads into the kitchen. “You’re hungry.”

Louis doesn’t deny it, just leans against the doorway while Zayn pours him a glass of orange juice, pulls open the pantry door and waves an arm, lets Louis take his pick of breakfast cereals and donuts and the like.

“You guys can eat?” Louis asks after he’s drank half the glass of juice and Zayn pauses from where he’s rooting around a drawer for a lighter.

“What?”

“You heard me, bat boy.”

Zayn doesn’t move, considers the consequences of letting Louis live. They’ve never had anyone who remembers the details of the previous night, have never had to worry about being exposed.

“We can eat,” Zayn says slowly, lights his morning cigarette. “We don’t usually, though. We don’t have to. Nothing tastes that good, anyway.”

Louis nods, plucks up a box of Weetabix. “Why all the food, then?”

Zayn gives him a slow smile around a mouthful of smoke, “we have a lot of guests.”

Louis hums, sits at the table with his juice and a bowl of dry cereal. “Blood bags in the freezer, then?” he jokes, seems shockingly adjusted to all of this, _feels too easy_ rattles around in Zayn’s head.

Zayn opeens the freezer, shows Louis the neatly stacked bags of O+, AB-, A- and B+ on the shelves. Takes out one of the AB bags and bites off the spout of it. Eats it like he would a freezy pop just to shut Louis up.

Of course, he doesn’t shut up. “So what does it feel like from your end?”

And there it is, the catch to this, because it’s never this easy. Zayn can practically feel the curiosity seeping through Louis’s words, stares hard at the man at the table. He doesn’t answer, just moves back into the living room. He sits cross-legged on Liam’s torso, presses his index finger against the birthmark on his neck and Liam's eyes flutter open, hands immediately going up to Zayn’s hips to steady him.

“Hi.”

 “He’s asking questions,” Zayn mutters, barely audible but Liam can hear him, Liam always hears him.

Liam blinks, looks up at the ceiling. “Alright.”

The two of them crowd Louis in the kitchen and Liam’s speaking with the same sultry tone from the night before, but the hand he’s got on Louis’s wrist isn’t as gentle. “You’re not going to tell anyone about us.”

Louis snorts, gulps down the rest of his juice. “Who would believe me?”

Liam shakes his head because that’s not the answer he was looking for, squeezes Louis’s wrist a little harder until he looks up at him. “You’re not going to tell anyone.”

Something flits across Louis’s eyes for a second and then it’s gone, his heartbeat picking up only a few faster beats. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” he says straight to Liam’s eyes and then pauses, “Can you guys change people? Into vampires?”

“No,” Zayn replies before Liam or Louis can even consider the possibility. “No, we can’t. And you’re not going to tell anyone about us because we’ll _kill you_ if you do.”

Louis stares hard at Zayn for a moment and then grins. “You’re scared. You’re _scared_ that I _am_ going to tell people and fuck up your little safe haven of kinky vampire love you’ve got going on here. I think you’re scared because you haven’t actually ever killed someone.”

Zayn stiffens but Liam’s out of his chair already, has Zayn by the bicep before he can do anything. “Don’t,” he breathes and it’s the first time in a while that Liam’s controlled Zayn like this, has him anchored to the spot.

Louis hooks his hands behind his head, leans back in his chair while Zayn and Louis share a silent exchange.

They leave Louis in the kitchen because Zayn’s not sure he can stand there for another minute without ripping out Louis's throat.

*

“Can you really be killed with a stake through the heart?” Louis starts conversationally an hour later. He’s more or less a hostage at this point, while Liam and Zayn decide what to do about him. He’s taken up residency comfortably on the couch, back in his sweater from the previous night and scrolling through something on his phone. Zayn hates him being here. A human’s never stayed with them for this long, has never burrowed themselves so deep into Zayn and Liam’s little lives with such curiosity. “Or fire? Sunlight?”

“No.”

“Oh. Because this website says that in the 1800’s, vampire hunters would murder suspected vampires by lighting them on fire or beheading them…” he trails off after that but Zayn’s already getting up to the kitchen to Liam, presses himself close into the taller man’s chest. Remembers finding Liam centuries ago, both of them terrified that they’d be found out by villagers, burned at the stake or tortured. Swallows back the panic in his throat when he thinks about having to face that again. It's not that Zayn _can't_ kill anyone, it's that he _won't_ , won't put his and Liam's safety at risk for a narcissistic human. “He can’t stay here,” Zayn finally hisses into Liam’s neck. “And he can’t tell anyone.”

Liam hums, rubs tiny, firm circles into Zayn’s shoulderblade with his thumb. “We could just change him,” he says slowly, tense, knows that Zayn’s never going to agree to that. “If we change him, he’s not going to tell anyone and put himself at risk, too, right?”

“No. He’s bad enough as a human. I don’t want to be responsible for a new vampire.”

“And you don’t want to kill him,” Liam clarifies, can’t quite hide his smile when Zayn buries his head in Liam’s chest again, pulls the shorter man into a hug. “You’re very dramatic, you know that?”

“I _want_ to kill him,” Zayn sighs, “but I don’t want the trouble of hiding the body. I don’t want us to have to run and hide somewhere, again.”

“You are literally the laziest person I have ever met in my 478 years on this planet.”

*

They know that the more they drain someone of their blood the less they’ll remember when they wake up and that seems like the only solution. Zayn doesn’t trust Louis any more than he trusts any human, and Liam’s certain that they’re both careful enough, precise enough to drain Louis enough to have him forget everything.

Liam approach him later, after Louis has eaten through most of their food and smoked through most of Zayn’s cigarettes. Thinks about the insults he’s been called over the years, _parasite, leech_ , thinks about how humans aren’t really that different. “Louis.”

“You figure out what to do with me? Where you’re going to put my body?” and he grins like he still thinks he has the upperhand here.

“You wanted to know if we can change people,” Liam starts carefully and Louis immediately sits forward, raises his eyebrows.

“We can. It’s just. We don’t like to do it. And we lied before because Zayn thought you’d ask us to.”

“I want you to,” Louis says without hesitation and Liam raises his eyebrows, asks, “really?”

Louis shrugs, sits back and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Zayn bristles at that behind Liam, because what the _hell_ kind of answer is that, considering an eternity based on boredom?

Liam replies quickly, before Zayn can interrupt, “We can do it, if you’re sure,” but Louis is already nodding and Zayn’s seen so many reckless people like this, ready to give up their lives at the drop of a hat and maybe it’s just a different mindset but, like. What Zayn wouldn’t give to have a heartbeat again.

Zayn takes it from there, explains to Louis that they’re going to have to drain him to do it, only takes over because Liam is a shit liar but Louis believes every word of what Zayn tells him, is already rolling up his sleeves.

There’s a hesitance that wasn’t there last night, they haven’t done this before. It’s not something precise, methodical. Zayn’s not exactly worried about keeping control of himself, when he sinks his fangs into the same soft spot of Louis’s wrist. He’s just worried that they’re going to take it too far. Counts past eight heartbeats and it’s unfamiliar territory, now, keeps pulling until Louis’s heart stutters once, slows down.

He’s got no idea how much he’s taken, how much Louis has left, but Liam takes his other wrist anyway, eyes black when he presses his mouth to the skin.

Zayn keeps a finger against the pulse in Louis’s neck, doesn’t know how thin the line is between dying and dead.

And then Louis’s chest starts spasming, shallow breathing and he’s unconscious, fingertips almost blue under Liam’s mouth.

“He’s going into shock,” Zayn says, doesn’t really register what he’s saying as Liam dislodges his fangs, mouth bright red but it’s not as attractive as it was last night. Can’t think of any other word to describe it but _macabre_. “Liam, he can’t fucking die. We can’t do another fucking 1858, alright--”

“--he’s not going to die, Zayn--”

And before they can keep bickering Louis goes still under them, no pulse under Zayn’s thumb. Fuck. And they’ve always been so, _so_ careful. Methodical. Precise. “Shit.”

So they have no choice, really. Liam presses his mouth back to Louis’s wrist, bites harder this time. When he pulls back there’s a wound that doesn’t close up like usual and Liam looks up at Zayn wearily because now there’s nothing to do but wait.

And five minutes later Louis inhales and coughs violently, doesn’t come around just yet but he’s starting to shiver and Zayn can’t watch, gets up to go pace the kitchen.

They take turns watching the man writhe on the couch, both of them working through another pack of cigarettes and it’s almost midnight when Louis goes still again. Liam jots down the address on Louis’s license and Zayn nods, stands up. “He’s almost back.”

Liam disappears to the kitchen, comes back with four bags of blood just as Zayn is retying the Dracula cape around his neck. Liam snorts at the irony and Zayn just gives him a tiny smile, kisses him on the edge of his jaw when he comes closer. “Figured it was appropriate. Let’s get him out of here.”

*

He wakes up because he’s on fire, is clawing at his clothes before he’s even got his eyes open.

Louis is in his own room. There’s a sliver of sunlight coming through the closed curtains across from his bed, hitting him in the face and it fucking _hurts_ , everything hurts worse than any hangover he’s ever had, feels like he died and came back to life. Feels like he’s lost his mind, can’t remember anything but a boy with gold eyes who smelled like cigarettes and another boy with calloused hands and a careful voice. Feels like he’s about to itch out of his skin.

And then he sees it, four bags of blood on his nightstand and it’s on instinct that he’s reaching for the top one, ripping it open before he can help himself and drains it all in one go.

Louis sits up, squints across at the sunlight and then realizes he’s still wearing his Dracula costume. Doesn’t know how or why or what happened but has a tugging thought at the back of his head, a burning need for the bags next to him and something that tells him he wanted this. Something that tells him that his life is about to be very, very different.

And then a note, laying next to the blood bags, and he remembers everything:

 _You’re not going to tell anyone_.

 


End file.
